You're not as quick as you use to be
by Shugs
Summary: When Dean is injured yet again on a simple hunt, Sam tries to make him realize just how he has changed since his return from Hell..... Short piece set in season 4.


"Damn it Sammy, take it easy will ya?" Dean hissed, swallowing hard as he dug his fingers into the old wooden chair he was straddling. "If I wanted it to hurt like a bitch, I would have done it myself."

Sam paused for a moment as he caught his brother's eyes. "Keep whining and you're going to be doing it yourself." He replied, soaking the face cloth in the bowl of water on the small table at his side.

Dean watched the clean water turn red almost instantly as his younger brother wrung out the cloth. He let out a sigh as his eyes drifted to the shirt he had draped over the back of a chair across from him and to the dark red stain that had just about consumed it. The sight of blood had never bothered him before, but the fact that it was his blood and that it was now all over his brother's hands made his stomach turn. When he felt the wet cloth press up against the back of his shoulder, he couldn't help but wince in pain. "Son of a bitch..." He muttered, his head dropping to rest on his arms as a sharp pain cut across his backside.

"You know Dean, you're not as quick as you used to be." Sam started, taking a moment to examine his brother's wound. "It could have easily killed you..."

"Well gee Sam, you're welcome." Dean cut in, straightening out the best he could. "Saving your ass was truly a pleasure."

"I'm just saying, you're..."

"I know what you're saying." Dean barked, cringing as a painful shock wave quickly spread down from his upper back. There was a moment of silence and he let out a sigh as he passed a hand over his face. "Listen, I know it was stupid of me to take both of them at once but what the hell else was I supposed to do? It had you by the throat, that's all I saw when I walked into the room. Doesn't matter anyway, we killed the thing, we both got out and the day goes on."

"You worry me." Sam whispered as he set the cloth down on the table and picked up a needle from the first aid kit.

"I, worry you? Sam?" The other man replied, his tone of voice destroying the quiet moment.

"You know better, the old you would never have..."

"The old me?" Dean asked, turning slightly to catch his brother's eyes.

"Dean you've changed..." Sam stated, passing the thread through the eye of the needle.

"Enough Sam." Dean growled, cutting him short.

"Whether you admit it or not, you know it's true and that..."

"I said enough Sam."

"What ever it is you went through, it's..."

"I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!" Dean shot out of his chair, swearing to himself as he clutched his sore shoulder with one hand and braced himself on the back of his chair with the other. "I spent forty years in the pit Sam." He started, his tone of voice gripping. "I've seen and done things I never want to think about again." Though the pain was clearly visible on his face, it was the anger in his voice that made Sam's words catch in the back of his throat. "Sammy, I would have taken my own life if I would have been able to."

"No one asked you to save me, Dean..." Sam silenced as his brother tossed the chair he had been leaning against to the floor, sending the sound echoing throughout their dingy motel room.

"What else was I going to do?" Dean barked, shuddering as the sudden movement sent the pain burning down his backside. "I'm not even supposed to be alive, Dad is." He paused for a moment as his brother's eyes drifted to the floor by his feet. "It's the least I could do, besides, you were worth it. I just didn't know it would be..."

"Dean, I would have done the same for you." Sam cut in, setting the needle and thread down on the small table at his side. "Hell, I tried everything I could possibly think of ."

"I know that." Dean replied, his voice slowly starting to drop. "But things I saw... the shit I had to do just to get by... I don't want you to go through the same and I don't want to explain it to you." There was a moment of silence and to Sam's surprise, Dean let out a chuckle. "Now I sound like Dad..." He muttered, reaching down to grab the chair he had tossed aside. "I just don't want you to carry my mess around."

"I won't if you don't." Sam replied, watching as his brother took a seat infront of him. As fast as the anger had come, it had gone. He grabbed the needle and thread from the table and took a deep breath as the thought of his brother's inner turmoil came to mind. "You ready?" Sam asked, waiting for a nod before starting what would be the first of many stitches. One thing his brother couldn't deny was how sloppy he had become since his return. The injury count was starting to rise and though subtle at first, the hesitation to act and react was almost always getting the best f him.

It was almost as if he was at war with his own demons instead of those who were trying to drag him back down to the pit. The old Dean didn't hesitate or doubt, he would have never questioned the situation at hand. The old Dean was sharp and focused, always ready for anything. Sam pulled away when he felt the other man tremble slightly. "You okay there buddy?" He asked, rinsing the blood from his fingers in the bowl of water nearby. When his brother gave him a nod, he carefully continued. "I'm almost done."

Dean swallowed hard as he felt the needle pierce his skin and already sore shoulder. He didn't have to have a conversation with his younger brother to know what he was thinking. "I'll be back in the game soon enough. I just need a little more time." He stated, reassuring himself more than the other man.

"I'm sure you will." Sam replied, tying off the last stitch and cutting the thread. "There, good as new." He said, setting the scissors down on the table.

"Thanks Sammy." Dean replied as he cautiously stood up and grabbed his shredded, blood soaked shirt from the back of a chair nearby. He froze in his steps as his mind raced back to the years he had spent in Hell, the years he had spent at the mercy of the very things he had hunted. For a moment, he could hear his own screams as they slashed and hacked away at him, forcing him to spill others blood to stop the spilling of his own. When his brother's voice pulled him back to reality, he swallowed the lump caught in his throat. "What?"

"I said, go take a hot shower to clean off all the blood; I'll find you another shirt." Though Dean gave him a nod as he turned to leave, it was more than obvious his mind was elsewhere, Sam was sure of it. 


End file.
